Trying to ForgetLike This she is Perfect
by Jay Foren
Summary: A oneshot that was split into two. Valkyrie lowers into insanity slowly. Every single time she remembers she kills herself a bit more.


You're trying to forget, but you can't and there's nothing that can help you. You've tried everything, but nothing works, only succeeds in making you even more disgusted in yourself and those around you.

You walk by a guy in the mall, and you can't help but wonder about him. What's his secret? What's his extent in which he'll go to protect it? You suppose it doesn't matter, he has his own life, and you have yours, so why get wrapped up in his?

You stop walking, you've realized it now. Old Valkyrie's speaking through, and you've promised yourself she won't shine through again. Everyone has a secret to hide, and some people will kill to do so. It only gets worse when one trusts the person who's lying, who's telling them tall tales to protect themselves. So you walk up to the man and you ask him.

"What's your secret?" He looks at you like your insane for a moment, (you are) shocked, before laughing it off.

"Good joke." You aren't satisfied, not at all, but you turn and walk away. After all, you know what it's like to carry a secret, and even though you need to know, you decide it's better to leave him alone.

You looked down at your nails, like you used to do so many times a day it's become a habit, and even New Valkyrie can't drive it away. They're red, and you're sure red was supposed to have some kind of significance, but you can't for the life of you remember what it was. They're a dull pink around the edges from being chewed and cut and ripped way to short whenever you remember.

While you're walking home, you see that accursed car again, and you result to grasping the cross around your neck to drive off the memories, and praying it will work. It never does of course, and your soon spinning into oblivion, remembering. How many times did you sit in that accursed car, laughing with the occupant? How many times did you just sit there as he fed you lies? You can't blame it on him, he's not trying to make you remember, just doing his job, which requires him to be in many places. You stare at the car as it drives past, your dark hair whipping in the breeze. You swear you see him lift his hand and wave, but then you always swear you see that. You can't assume you're correct, because you've been seeing a lot of things these days. You hardly doubt he even recognizes you anymore with your thin wire hair that has begun to fall out and your too thin frame and your dark tired eyes with too big bags under them.

You know you're not healthy, but you can't make yourself desire to be, and if you don't want to live, why? People see you on the streets, and they whisper. Anorexic, unhealthy, sick, insane. It's not fair, they judge you, but they don't know your story. Don't know what you've been through, what you're trying to forget, what you can't forget.

Your eyes are no longer beautiful. They're bloodshot and red and you can hardly see anything out of them. You've long since lost your eyelashes and eyebrows, and there's nothing to keep the sand out. It hurts to blink so you've decided to just stop. Now they're the telltale sign you're killing yourself, and you're not doing anything about it.

So you weep as you stand there, because he lied to you, and you stood there and let him, and now you're dying because of it. It doesn't seem like a fair trade, and it probably isn't, but you deal with it, because you don't know what else to offer. He's already gotten your soul, had it when she stepped into that car but only received it when she found out about the lies. Now he's just killing a body, a body inhabiting a ghost that should have, would have left this world. An empty body, soul long gone.

So you wake up and dust yourself off, going back into the world that is yours. You're almost disappointed; you had been hoping you would wake up in a second dimension while your body slowly bleeds out in this one. You start to walk home, and somewhere about half way you wonder what would have happened if you hadn't heard about the lies. The shock is large, and you almost pass out again, but you straighten your legs and brace your once finely tuned now non-existent muscles. It hurts, it hurts a lot, but you stay on your feet. After a few more moments, partially to get your bearings back and partially to process the question, you continue walking.

What would have happened? You'd still be following him around like a lost puppy listening to all those lies, everything he told you, a lie.

You keep walking, faster, because you don't want to have any other reminders of Old Valkyrie before you get home. Soon you arrive at your place, a small five room apartment which you share with your roommate, Clarabelle. Clarabelle's mortal, and has no idea what you can do with a flick of your hand, how dead she would be if you wished it so.

You lie down in bed for a little bit, but soon the moon shines overhead. And night is when the real you comes out to play . . .

* * *

><p>Darquesse does not remember, Darquesse is completely new, a mind wiped clean. Darquesse is not frail, Darquesse is strong. Darquesse is not grotesque; Darquesse is beautiful, twirling through the sky in a cloud of blood red. Darquesse does not bow, Darquesse rises. Darquesse is all powerful.<p>

You are all powerful.

When Darquesse is in control, it's like he never lied to you, like you never left that world. When she's in control, you are better than your old self, instead of a shadow. Darquesse is greater than them; you have no reason to be jealous. They have a reason however.

You look over at your roommate, and you sigh. You know you must keep her, and a small part of you wants to. She was so kind, giving up the better offer to help New Valkyrie find a way in life. Still, you're a killer, and you promise yourself you'll come back to find her.

Walking over to the corner to a corner, you shed your dull black clothing. There's something special about it, but you're not sure what it is. Donning a vibrant red gown you swirl around and stare at yourself in the mirror. You're beautiful like this. Blood stains the already crimson gown, but it doesn't make the fabric look tainted; instead it adds a certain grace to it.

When you're like this, you are perfect.

* * *

><p><em>There are so many plotholes in this, but I can't make myself go back and fix them.<em>

_-Jay Foren_


End file.
